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Lyrics... |
Stevie Smith: Teenage Terrorist Stevie Smith is off the rails - aged fifteen with a bag of nails A teenaged gun for hire - bulk buyer of fertiliser Stevie, into rap - Bakunin in a baseball cap Recycle those alcopops - an adolescent Molotov Stevie Smith, Stevie Smith, teenage terrorist Stevie Smith, Stevie Smith, teenage terrorist Stevie Smith what's gone wrong? - in his bedroom making bombs Learned it on the Internet - not homework his teacher set Stevie Smith young anarchist - he's got the world on his hit list Set off by his mobile phone - destroyed his young offenders' home Stevie Smith, Stevie Smith teenage terrorist Stevie Smith Stevie Smith, teenage terrorist Stevie Smith price on his head - at least that's what the papers said Now the cops are on his trail - the front page of the Daily Mail Stevie Smith can't get a date - now he's an icon of hate Steve at last your time has come - you never even told your mum Stevie Smith, Stevie Smith teenage terrorist Stevie Smith Stevie Smith, teenage terrorist |
| Pop Sluts He's a pop star Doesn't care What the words are He's a pop star Plastic face And a nice car He's a pop star Muppet boy He'll go far They pull the strings Muppet boy sings Pull the strings, pull the strings She's a pop star Doesn't know Who you are She's a pop star Tiny dress In a shit bar She's a pop star Puppet girl Just wunderbra They pull the strings The cash till rings Cut the strings, cut the strings Pull them off the stage, punch them in the face. |
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God Loves Us And He Hates You Fifty lashes with the Bible belt That'll teach you to be someone else The bruises will teach you right from wrong Eyes to Heaven as we sing along We are right and you are wrong That is why we sing this song God loves us and he hates you He hates Charles Darwin too So don't be gay and don't be glad Play it straight in the Promised Land Don't drink or smoke or be a girl Or we will bomb you - straight to Hell Kill your kids if they're in the way On your knees now as we pray: There is nothing we won't do God loves us and he hates you It's the opium of the masses The crack pipe of the war pig classes Take a big puff on your holy smoke As our holy wars makes holy ghosts Friends don't let your halo slip Take a deep breath, get a grip On the Lord's Kalashnikov Sing his praises - fire it off We are right and you are wrong That is why we sing this song There is nothing we won't do God loves us and he hates you |
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| This Is The Sound This is the sound that's bending your ear the roundly twisted sound of fear That's the sound they want you to hear All channels receiving loud and clear The sound of blood freezing in your veins As it grinds like a glacier in to your brain The sound of a mobile ringing in vain Bomb going off on a crowded train Sound of the rich locking their gates As cars explode on housing estates Sound of ignorance greed and hate Sound of the cops arriving too late Sound of the pop charts, sound of TV Sound that sets us, you against me Sound that says we'll never be free Sound of the radio, sound of TV Sound of the bullet, sound of the gun Under the cosh and under the thumb The sound you make with nowhere to run Under the cosh and under the thumb The sound that sets your teeth on edge Sound of the suicide out on the ledge Sound they use to keep you in check The sound of fear breathing down your neck. |
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Ad Man
Sharp-suited shark in a silk tie Sells you the tat no one Wants to buy - The ad man A slight of hand deceives the eye Seeing is believing Truth is a lie - To the ad man Sand to the Arabs that's his scheme Pointless old bric-a-brac Things you don't need - The ad man He'd trade you back last night's bad dream Newly gold-plated for The silver screen - The ad man Peddling all that's cheap and shabby Painting the sepulchre Gilding the lily - That's the ad man He's thriving on the asinine The past it's sell by date End of the line - The ad man Selling his own integrity His money's for nothing The cheque's not free - For the ad man |
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Shoot
To Kill |
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| All There Is To Do There’s no bobby on this beat Where OAPs feel the heat Burglars knock your granny flat Hot her till she’s blue and black Boredom walks in hooded tops Burned out cars and shuttered shops Mouth is closed and so’s my fist Don’t speak with that but talk with this You hit me and I’ll hit you That’s all there is for us to do We’re so bored, we hate you There’s nothing else for us to do Skies a lid on a grid of streets Lines on a map to chart the grief Mini gangsters cut their teeth On the sharpest corner of the street Where weedy kids graze on grass There, bus-sheltered in the dark Take a crack course in heroin Solvents in the park. You hit me and I’ll hit you That’s all there is for us to do We’re so bored, we hate you There’s nothing else for us to do There’s discontent in the discothèque Cos there’s no language of dissent Just the brutal chatter of the text Send an SOS by SMS We’re so bored we hate you There’s nothing left for us to do |
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| Burn, Cambridge, Burn. Burn, Cambridge, burn, let the flames equalise The gap between the town and gown, set light to your lies Set the flames to running, through streets and alleyways The colleges are first to fall and wither in the blaze Like a twisted scholar running, down corridors of books Licking through the pages, written on by crooks See the mortarboards are melting, the dons wear fiery cloaks A thousand years of learning has just gone up in smoke But it was learning how to cheat you, a con they learned by rote They ‘where were you?’ And ‘I was too,’ the tyrant’s shorthand note So take the old school tie, wrap it round their throats And with a roar of triumph extinguish all their hopes Throw them through the window into the burning streets Defenestrate the senate; pull down learning’s seat Dance then in the embers, breathe in the ash and gloat Knock holes in all the punts, only corpses now will float Along the lazy River Cam, through the city’s smoking heart Out into the fields where cattle graze and fart They say you can walk to London on land the college owns So burn the crops and trees, uproot the hedgerows Leave behind a wasteland so we can start anew With learning for the many and not just for the few Talk of brave new worlds and cynics laugh at you But all it takes is petrol, matches but a few Look now friends and see: King’s College is alight Darwin, Churchill, Robinson, Fitzwilliam burning bright Newnham, Peterhouse St John’s, all these the flames will blight Even Magdalene and Clare the inferno will ignite So burn, Cambridge, burn, let the flames equalise The gulf between the town and gown, set light to your lies. |
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| Call Centre. In the call centre, life on hold Call centre culture, wired to the world Third world wages, yours to own New way of living, pick up the phone Call centre, call centre Call centre, call centre Call centre, call centre Call centre, call centre Call the call centre, centre of the world Choose and option, two three, four Customer number, you are you’re postcode Be the receiver, do what your told Call centre, call centre Call centre, call centre Call centre, call centre Dial 118 shut your face Please have your customer number to hand as this will help us to deal with you more ruthlessly. This call may be recorded and used in evidence against you. This is a tertiary industry. Call centre worker, student slave Degree in finance, on minimum wage Regional accent, friendly voice Pay up or hang up, illusion of choice Call centre, call centre Call centre, call centre Call centre, call centre Dial 118 shut your face You are in a queue. We value your custom and look forward to speaking to you. Subsistence farming on Tyneside. Post industrial alienation. This is a call centre nation. Call centre, call centre Call centre, call centre Call centre, call centre Call centre, call centre |
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| Blow It Up, Burn It
Down Kick It Till It Breaks Paralysis of the everyday Banality of evil Constant buzzing of cathode rays Blisters from the treadmill Moths flap against the TV screen Soap opera rape and murder Feed public lust for the obscene The first fuck on Big Brother Blow it up, burn it down, kick it till it breaks Seize control, wreck it all, let’s destroy the state Meal deals wrapped in cellophane Narcotics over the counter Impotence in the breakfast grain Viagra on mail order Lap dancers perform for salesman Pop Idol prostitution Jordan’s fake tits in FHM Porn sent to your workstation Blow it up, burn it down, kick it till it breaks Seize control, wreck it all, let’s destroy the state Sterility of the checkout Drunken bigot in the bar Whispering when you want to shout Ring road choked with cars High street chain store monotony Shopping trolleys in the park Breakfast TV lobotomy Children fed to the loan sharks Blow it up, burn it down, kick it till it breaks Seize control, wreck it all, let’s destroy the state |
